


In the Altogether

by kozz



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1800's vernacular, Angel True Forms, Aziraphale muses over a few historical things, Demon True Forms, Description of Abstract Angels, Frolicking, Other, Rated T for the mention that sex exists, Sidebars, The point is... The point is... The POINT is ft. Aziraphale, There is no sex or lewdness in here, Why Aziraphale likes magic tricks, drunk conversation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 09:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20307145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kozz/pseuds/kozz
Summary: A drunk conversation sidebars to an angel inadvertently propositioning a demon. No... THAT is not the kind of proposition that Aziraphale intended, he meant something with a bit more nuance (if he can ever get around to explaining it).





	In the Altogether

**Author's Note:**

> A note: the footnotes at the bottom do not link back up to the text (sorry), of you have a tried way how, do let me know!  
1800's vocabulary is delightful. There is a number of them I here I have not footnoted.

“What did you just say?”

The words drifted over the paper and empty glass scattered on the table like a curling line of smoke.

Aziraphale was not quite as drunk as he could be, but quite a bit drunker than he should be by many human standards. He studied the grain in the Queen Anne side table, the tree rings that crept along its elegant legs in a way that reminded him of the swirls of chocolate cheesecake (of which they had promptly run out soon after they had sat down).

“Angel,” Crowley patiently persevered

It took some concentrated effort to look over at the demon. He was in the sort of fugue state of arfarfan’arf1 where one feels comfortable and content to remain perfectly still, and just wonder about things, like the cheesecake rings on coffee tables, or the dust motes that escaped his upkeep along bookshelves, dancing in the incandescent lamplight like minuscule planets. Eventually his gaze drew to the darker corner of the room where his drinking companion sprawled across the loveseat as if he’d been casually flung there, deposited nearly upside down with his long legs housed by gas-pipes2 splayed. A vague puddle of black, red and yellow, Aziraphale considered thoughtfully, if he let his eyes unfocus, almost like a serpentine looped on itself. Or if he tilted his head very slightly to the left, looked absurdly like a supine model posing for a painting.

“DaVinci…” he said, vaguely piqued with the vision “… you mentioned you were friends with him once. Did he ever ask you to model for any of his studies? I think you would have cut a lovely composition.”

“Nnn-don’t change the subject.” came the groan. What subject? Aziraphale wondered. They’d trotted through quite a lot of them. He honestly wasn’t sure how long they’d even been there powdering their hair like this. Aziraphale peered into his crystal tumbler. He didn’t recall it being so empty, either. He reached for the crystal decanter. It wasn’t there. For some reason it was all the way on the edge of the table next to Crowley. He would have to get up to reach it and he couldn’t be fussed for moving.

“What was it then, what did I say?” he watched as Crowley struggled to twist himself right side up, and seemed to give up on it about halfway there.

“You said,” the demon lifted one finger towards the ceiling as if to address it “You said, ‘that I would like to… sssee you n’ the altogether.’”

Aziraphale pondered this. Now that he mentioned it, he did, in fact, say that but he felt like he had said it hours ago when they were only half-rats and just a few scotches in, and it had slipped off his tongue before he could grab onto the bottle and cork it back where it belonged. Crowley had given him the cool look he did whenever Aziraphale used his favored idioms.

Now, his friend was looking at him with sulphureous irises that met the edges of his eyes, those eyes that Aziraphale understood was to mean he was of serious contemplation. Perhaps he had been thinking about that for the better part of the last hour. Upside down none the less, before coming to a delayed conclusion.

“What did you mean by that?”

“What did I mean by what my dear boy?”

“Wh- gh… seeing me, in the altogether. What’s that supposed t’mean exactly?”

They stared at each other. In another time, Aziraphale realized abstractedly, that he would be a bit mortified with himself. Right now it seemed like a question that ought to be answered very seriously or not very at all. He weighed his options. What he actually meant was a lot more profound than what it actually sounded like and he wasn’t sure if he had the proper vocabulary at his disposal. He could try to excuse himself from it, but as he side-eyed his companion who was carefully poised and his brows drawn together in a concentrated effort, he found himself coming up quite short on excuses. Certainly not for someone who was supremely known for asking questions.

“Ah-wonder if I should soberup first.” he heard his voice come out a bit too delicate, hiding the light wobble of worry with the slur “… I… ‘might be forgetting myself. I shouldn’t be saying such imp.. in-proper things without thoroughly judging it first.”

An indescript foley of protest and dismay drifted from across the room. As Crowley unfurled his spine, he wondered if the poor boy would slide off the cushions to the floor. It was probably the mention of sobering because if Aziraphale sobered, that would mean that Crowley would probably, inevitably follow suit. That would be the end of what was (by all other accounts) a rather pleasant evening. It was no fun to be the only one drunk, after all.

The window was cracked open, letting in a gentle, evening breeze that cooled by the rain that had passed not even an hour ago. In the drunk silence they could hear the dripping of rainwater down the eves, drops gently plucking into puddles. Distantly, one could hear night time evening-goers, the vaudevilles dressed in evening costumes, soirees pooling in the distance in their bokeh neon lights, like a night time reef coming alive and mafficking under blacklight.

“In-proper?” Crowley parroted belatedly, drawing him back to the conversation. Aziraphale saw a frown in the deep grooves of the demon’s face. He waved his hand vaguely in the air, as if grasping for something in-material “D.. d’you think… how m- or have you ever been? Humans I mean- ‘ve-you everben?”

Aziraphale blinked owlishly

“Pardon?”

“Have you ever been,” Crowley’s voice was decidedly more careful as he picked through his words with weighted consideration “with a human? Lovemaking, I mean.”

“Oh.” he managed to prop himself up from the chair, with some modicum of decency and tried to clear his throat. “Well, I’m poked up to admit that I have been propositioned. There were a number of times I recall quite miss-infer…er, not understanding the intentions of a few of my acquaintances and broke a couple of poor hearts.” he feels an old twinge of century-old guilt, even though the humans in question are long gone.

“Broke hearts Aziraphale, you?”

“Well! I was informed that I was being a bit too kind. Too chummy I suppose, doing the bear3 too often. I was meant to be watching over them, and got carried away.”

“Mn. Not heard of that story.”

“Well, I think that you were still asleep then, you’d been gone for most of the century anyway.” he stopped himself from carrying on too far. Yes, he thought, a bit ruffled. That was during the 19th century when he’d occupied himself in discreet gentlemens clubs, when he’d run into the Aethetes now and again, the young playwrights and poets and artists and hopefuls. He'd been overcompensating for something at that time. That was when Robert-Houdin had been born, and Aziraphale (after witnessing a rather awful first opening show) taken it upon himself to spare a few small miracles to inspire the watchmaker and illusionist to persevere. With satisfied, desperate glee he watched as stage magic bloomed across Europe, and the world. Palais Royal became a smashing success, and to his delight brought itself right into his backyard in St. James Theatre. He had known many humans at the time, and at the time and it had helped distract him from a distinct, growing emptiness that had loomed largely in the corners of everywhere else.  
He hadn’t done any tempting for Crowley for decades by then. It was only in the turn of the next century when the libertines and the hangers-on emerged once more (in Dark America of all places), flappers, pampheteers and the fashionable junkies. Even before Crowley invariably showed up to pay him a visit, the louche discussion and innuendo of the outré and avant-garde transgressions that had leaked its way over were certainly enough to he announce that he was there.

Still, even now, magic tricks still brought him a strange comfort.

“Well,” he continued, wicking the thought away, and ignoring the probing stare from across the room “Since then I’ve always been more mindful. Always have been quite taken for passing friendships, but more naive to interpersonal suss...suss...susliciasili… hm. Much else.”

Crowley’s expression remained largely unchanged in interest, with one hand propped on his chin and the arm of the sofa. Aziraphale cleared his throat again, it felt coated with drink that wouldn’t go down.

“Ever happen to you?” he taks on with casual curiosity, which seems to near wake Crowley up out of whatever imaginative stupor he is swimming in.

“Not on purpose. S’happened when I was doing one of yours before.”

Ah, one of his blessings, Aziraphale thinks knowingly. That would certainly do it, if Crowley was doing something nice and a human (somehow) took notice. He would certainly know.

“Humans are so taken to kindness,” he says rather too affectionately, and Crowley makes a noise he can't interpret “And anyway, what was this all about?”

“Improper.” Crowley listed gently, picking up where they left off “S’trying to figure what you said. Sounded like a proposition in itself.”

Aziraphale felt heat creeping up the back of his neck.

“Ah.” Oh, he really DID need to sober up. That DID sound suspiciously like he propositioning something (however ludicrous an angel propositioning a demon sounded- like something from a young adult book which Aziraphale may or may not have entirely read once by total accident). Crowley only hiked his brows a bit higher

“It’s just not what I meant.” Aziraphale dithered haltingly, then with some sudden curiosity added “You experienced as such for yourself?”

Crowley shrugged, tried to speak but it hissed out as a string of esses, then he gave up and instead decided to contemplate the world outside out the darkened window. Aziraphale had never asked directly, vaguely figured it fell more easily within Crowley’s territory, broadly hinted at, never denied, never made explicit. The tension in Aziraphales shoulders eased, an assuring smile came easily to him

“Well, that’s not what I implied by being improper anyway. I do hope you know that.”

Crowley did shift to side-eye him, expression somewhere between incredulity, amusement and intrigue

“'Course I do.”

“Anyway, There’s a reason why the expression has inspired so many epics and philosophies and spiritualism. Have you ever-?” Crowley made an abrupt noise like wind being squeezed out of an old hoover bag.

“Sure, it’s all v’nice we could talk all about the mm- the ssscandalous if you like some time, mbut but… but you are changing the subject.” Of course. Aziraphale already forgot. Crowley had finally, languidly pulled himself fully upright with great effort.

“Didn’t mean to pry, m’just curious.”

The look he was given, part tenderness and part regret made Aziraphale scold himself for being so dilly-dally in the first place. For goodness sake, he brought this up so ought to be as forthright as he could.

“I was only thinking back,” he tried with renewed determination “Of when we made the switch. It had happened all so very quickly, you know, and I was-I… I really wish that we had more time.” his gaze once more dropped helplessly to the far away decanter on the table.

“Trading places?” Crowley prompted after a moment

“No, well, I doubt anything could be more intimate than swapping bodies-” Aziraphale said thoughtfully “But there was a moment… a moment… IN the moment where we were not quite in either of ourselves, I felt more boundless than I had in a very long time, even in the time where I was slung around the world without a body, fitting into human vessels that were open to possession.”

“Wot?” Crowley warbled

“Oh, yes. Did I not mention?” Aziraphale explains cheerfully “I went around on quite an out of body adventure before I finally found you back in London. There isn’t exactly a manual to finding a vessel. You sort of go where you are lead like a divining rod.” The demon seemed both amused an impressed like he was filing away this bit of information for later.

“Anyway-”

“Yes, so anyway, it had been so long since I’ve been in my original shape, and as I felt you passing beside me, I thought… that I wanted nothing more than to be with you in that space.” he paused, hiccuped “Without the corporations,” he clarified with a wave of his hand “just the essence, as you are- just you. In the Altogether.” he dared to glance up, Crowley’s eyes were like a pair of deep-set embers.

“Quite silly.” Aziraphale added with a shy smile he couldn’t quite keep from darting on his face

“No nn.. no it isn’t. Fer... Angel, you can always ask me. What could I ever do?” Crowley’s voice odd and somewhat high “Do you still want to try it?”

Aziraphale nearly chokes on the last of his drink at the question, and carefully sets his glass on the table

“Try it?” he professes, straightening his shirt “My dear boy, we would be putting ourselves in such danger, our bodies largely left completely vulnerable.”

“Nobody is watching.” Crowley offered

“And furthermore,” he elects to ignore him “Would be quite overstepping myself. That is what I meant by improper. I happened to think it in a moment of…” he can’t think of how to finish the sentence “Our corporations are self-expressions of who we are, of… of who you are.” Indeed, the lovely thing about corporations was how close it brought you to the human experience, to enjoy the efforts of Her Work, as well as walk among humans so convincingly as to (to the chagrin of Heaven or Hell) laugh and play, and to despair and cherish. Their bodies become their own possession, and although Aziraphale had rarely changed aspects of his corporation, Crowley shifted and adjusted his to fit the times, to fit his mood- a tool of his own wit and expression of his being. 

He didn’t want to ask to draw his friend out of that, to reveal something he didn’t want to, to be laid bare. He had only been curious enough to want to feel as close to him as what was entirely universally possible.

“S'not overstepping.” Crowley’s voice dips low and brims with such affection it nearly drags with the ache of it. “I’d do it, if you’d like.”

“It’s not a matter whether if I’d like to do it,” Aziraphale worries his cufflink with the anxiousness that spills a bit over him “I know how you like your form the way you present it.”

Crowley pulls a look that tugs at Aziraphale heart and nearly sobers him entirely on the spot. 

“Anything you want." he says "Always.”

So Aziraphale stands up, and Crowley follows his unsteady, teetering movement like he’s the most interesting thing he’s seen in a millennium. Aziraphale is careful not to upset the piles of glasses and papers that had been the subject of a heated debate just earlier that afternoon (something about rainforests or witches, he hardly remembers now). He sits beside Crowley, sinking into the aged Edwardian cushion.

“Going at my own pace.” he finds himself muttering in chastisement. Being this forward is not so easy. How does Crowley manage to do it? “Would you really be keen on the idea.”

“Yesss.” the reply comes throaty, although he detects a small note of hesitation. Aziraphale waits, watching a line of doubt crease into Crowley’s forehead with concern “Except… you, might not like what you find.” the demon finally supposes, more to himself. Crowley leans forward to set the bottle he’s been cradling like a child from his arm on the table, his hand white-knuckled on the neck.

Aziraphale can’t help himself to make an abortive move towards his hand, fingers hovering over his.

“I know that I shall like it.” he says plainly and with fond confidence “Because it will be you.”

Crowley slides his hand back and meets his halfway, and Aziraphale gives a gentle tug. He follows as silk slides across well-worn fabric...

  
  


  
  


...It is something that humans could not describe because a vocabulary does not exist to describe it. In an aether that is not quite in our world, or anywhere in particular, a space between spaces, a place few can dream of and where perhaps dreams do exist, in a fabric of reality that the psychopomp Death himself fashions into his own cloak and drapes about the world.

This is where an angel, bright, ethereal, blooms into and moves without the consequence of physics- surveys the world, not unlike the one it just left, mirrored perhaps, a shadow of what it was. Then it briefly regards itself, incomprehensible to a human, but perhaps a feather can be gleaned there, or a whole wing, maybe more. Fur, perhaps, it’s hard to tell where it starts and ends, and horns. A tail? Was that still there after all this time? There are eyes everywhere blinking in and out like shining blue stars, remnants of something cherubim, reforming itself, incorporeal.

Sliding like a fractal oil slick, and flowing like the embers of a low, purring fire- rising and drifting, circling around the lacy divine white angel in rings, blinks of yellow eyes like fireflies here in one spot, gone in another, graceful arcs and black wings and prismatic black scales. The pair of them move about each other in a abstract shape that isn’t quite one form, not quite separate either until wings are flush and one can’t properly tell one set of eyes from the other (since they are looking at each other so closely and intently) like stars revolving around one another, pulled by their own gravity, and perhaps extending that pull outward, moving flying, (frolicking if one were to subscribe an emotion towards it).

Then up they spiral, capering towards the sky over distant London, where twilight meets the dark sky, besetting the clouds with indigo and mauve and ink and damson, curling under the swells and plateaus of cumulonimbus and plummeting to earth only to rise again. From somewhere a dog barks at the sky, alarmed by something unseen. A line of street-lamps flicker, a movement in the wind that slightly unsettles the leaves of autumn.

  
  


The bookshop it is quite still as if it has been emptied of something. Two figures lay tangled on a piece of furniture that is far too small for either of them, limbs dangling over the edge. If anyone were to walk in on them they might be alarmed by impression that there were two dead lovers on the couch, one with his face rather buried somewhere under the crook of a scant arm, a leg slung over and wrapped so tightly somewhere in a place where it probably shouldn't bend naturally- with a slender hand threaded in dandelion fluff hair. They COULD almost be dead, except for the occasional breathy sigh that escapes from either one of them, as if he might be having a very good dream, the best dream he’s ever had altogether.

Footnotes

1 A figure of speech from 1800’s used to describe drunken men. "He's very arf'arf'an'arf," “meaning he has had many ‘arfs,'” or half-pints of booze. Or in this particular case booze and cheesecake from the local bakery down the street.

2 A 1800’s term for especially tight pants.

3 Courting that involves hugging. In Aziraphales case, also and indulging his cohorts in the next Art Happening.

**Author's Note:**

> "in the altogether" is an old fashioned way of saying "completely naked". Naked of course could mean different things.
> 
> I draw! You can find me on social media as Kozzdraws, if you'd like to see a part illustrated do let me know please, I'd be happy to hear your thoughts :)


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